Misery
by shoreside
Summary: Postep for WhackaMole What did House do when he drove past Wilson on his motorcycle?


Title: Misery  
Pairing: House/OC  
Rating: M – adults only please  
Genre: Angst  
A/N: takes place immediately after "Whack-a-Mole".

Raeann didn't believe in self-pity. No, everyone was responsible for making their own decisions in life and she certainly didn't regret any of hers. Sure, there were jobs with better hours, less danger, and a more relaxed dress code but the money was phenomenal and she had earned the respect of her agency so she could practically have her pick of assignments.

Tonight she had been engaged for an assignment she adored. She couldn't put her finger on why exactly maybe it was because it always ran so smoothly. There was no nervous energy, no awkward silences and no danger. He paid top dollar and so she gave him her best.

He opened the door looking more weary than she had ever seen him before. No words were exchanged she slipped inside and headed for the bedroom. He shuffled in behind. She started to undress but he laid a hand on her arm.

"No."

He made the call because he was feeling restless and, yes, just a little guilty. It was uncomfortable and he wanted it to go away. The image of Wilson sitting in the rain seared his soul. He was a selfish bastard and the world knew it then why was he being tortured by the enervated look in his supposed best friend's eyes?

_Can't feel_

The agency knew him well and he always received the best. He gave a generous tip, never threatened anyone and so they catered to his tastes. Raeann was his favourite because she was professional, didn't talk too much and instinctively knew how to touch him to bring maximum pleasure. Tonight when he opened the door, she sensed that something was wrong and so she stayed silent. No playful banter tonight.

She knew her way around his apartment from her frequent visits and so she headed to the bedroom, House close behind. It wasn't until she started to undress that he realized he didn't want the service he had paid for. He laid a hand on her arm and whispered, "Stop." when she looked puzzled, he assured her, "I'll pay for what I ordered but tonight..." His voice trailed off. He lowered his pants and boxers and arranged himself on his back on the bed. She caught on immediately.

_Well, this is different_, Raeann thought pensively. House usually wanted the works and Raeann had assumed the doctor with a limp didn't have many people touching him through the course of a day. But the customer was always right, so she settled himself between his legs.

It seemed to take hours to get him erect. Raeann used all her tricks until she wondered if she was hurting him. She glanced up at his face but he had his eyes closed and no expression. Eventually, though, biology overrode misery and she was able to take him in her mouth. She listened as she always did with her clients, to see what they liked best but House was unnaturally quiet. No gasps of pleasure or low moans of satisfaction escaped his lips. Raeann wondered where his mind was. Instead of climaxing hard and with abandon as he had done with her many times before, his orgasm seemed like an afterthought. She thought she heard something come out of his mouth but too softly for her to make out.

_We've got food that makes you hungry  
Drinks that make you sick  
We've got cars that go in circles  
Real nice clothes that do not fit  
Here the money makes you paranoid  
There's no one you can trust  
The sex will leave you lonely  
And the love all turns to rust_

One of the things that House like most about Raeann was how she could read his mind so he didn't have to spell it out. Tonight he didn't deserve a warm body curved around his or the soothing hands calming his face, his chest and his legs. This was about need, pure and simple, the need for distraction and the need to forget.

At first his body wouldn't cooperate and he miserably assumed he was going to embarrass himself. He tried frantically to conjure up one of his fantasies but his mind kept jumping to the cold, dejected figure shivering in a cold downpour. Raeann's fingers and mouth worked their usual magic, however, and he felt himself getting hard. He couldn't seem to access the pleasure centre of his brain so when he finally came, it felt like a balloon slowly deflating air. Instead of crying out, he whispered, "Sorry." And a few tears escaped down his face.

He didn't move. After what seemed like eons, Raeann got up and pocketed the money on his dresser. She turned around and opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind and left.

After cleaning himself and redressing, House went outside. It was still raining hard and he sat on the steps, allowing the cold water to baptize him into oblivion.

lyrics belong to Carolyn Arends and Spencer Capier


End file.
